


I Will Watch Over You

by Linguam



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Aramis Speaking Spanish, Brief appearance of Athos & d'Artagnan, Brotherhood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag: 2x06 Through A Glass Darkly, Gen, I'm a linguist nerd, Mentions of Savoy, Nightmares, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers, Worried Porthos, because I couldn't help myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3469595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguam/pseuds/Linguam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They had called it a night hours ago, and yet Porthos found he couldn't tear his gaze away from the steady rise and fall of Aramis' chest. Rising… falling… rising… falling…" Porthos stands vigil over Aramis, and they get some well-needed closure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Watch Over You

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I know there are already a few very good codas to this episode, but this just came to me out of the blue and I had to get it out. Hopefully you all feel up for another one :-) And besides, it is my firm belief that there can never be too much of these two!
> 
> Also, as is tagged, I have Aramis speaking Spanish in this but don't worry, it's all translated at the end :-)
> 
> Now, without further preamble, on to the story! Enjoy!

Night had fallen long ago, darkness stretching its spidery fingers towards the lone candle lighting the small room. Paris was asleep, as was the rest of the garrison, the only sound breaking the silence the steady breathing from the sleeping form occupying the room’s only bed. They had called it a night hours ago, and yet Porthos found he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the steady rise and fall of Aramis’ chest. Rising… falling… rising… falling… His joints ached from sitting in the chair next to the bed, knees supporting his elbows as he leaned forward and his head resting against his knuckles. The only reason Aramis hadn’t chased him out yet was that the man was completely oblivious to his presence, something that spoke loudly of how exhausted he was.

After their return from that godforsaken tower, they had escorted the royalties back to the castle; both a bit shaken, but not much worse for wear. Porthos, however, had barely spared them a glance, all of his attention on his brother. Though Aramis was alive and had, miraculously enough, only received minor injuries from his fall, Porthos couldn’t help the irrational fear he felt that, if he turned away, the man would somehow disappear. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Rochefort that Aramis wasn’t dead. It was illogical, but then it had nothing to do with logic – he knew as well as anybody what a fall like that could do to a man – but with conviction. And, to some degree, denial. He simply refused to believe it; resorting to have faith in his friend’s uncanny ability to, time after time, cheat death. Not to mention he did have some experience with exits through windows. Aramis would be fine. For Porthos, there simply was no other option.

Still, dread held a firm grip on his heart until that moment when Aramis had stepped out on the staircase and after that, he was reluctant to let the other man out of his sight. Porthos might never have believed him really dead, but he’d still feared it more than he could say.

Aramis had turned in early, barely making it through supper without dislocating his jaw from constant yawning. Minor injuries or not, the rest of them could clearly make out his exhaustion; especially since they themselves felt it too. He’d risen from the table, swaying slightly, and Porthos instinctively shot out an arm to help steady him. The combination of his own worried frown, the narrowing of Athos’ eyes and d’Artagnan’s raised eyebrows, made Aramis swallow whatever offhand comment he had been about to make. Instead he smiled fondly, reassuring them once more that he was, indeed, “fine”.

“You are certain?” Athos had asked, a slight tightness to his usual, dry tone.

“Certain,” Aramis agreed. “A decent night’s rest is all I require.” He tipped his hat at them in parting. “I bid you goodnight, gentlemen.”

They all watched him go, limping slightly and shoulders hunched in fatigue. Even when he’d disappeared out of sight, Porthos found his gaze lingering on the door to his lodgings, even as Athos and d’Artagnan returned to their respective plates, conversing lightly between mouthfuls. It was ridiculous, and he knew it, but with the adrenaline still soaring through his veins came the image of Marmion grabbing his friend’s shoulders, the sound of glass shattering and his own roar mixed with d’Artagnan’s and then Aramis was gone, falling falling falling…

“Go.”

Athos’ voice brought him back to the present and he tore his gaze to his remaining friends, raising a questioning eyebrow. Athos sighed, the exasperation in his tone, although palpable, not enough to hide his obvious amusement. He inclined his head towards Aramis’ quarters.

“Go,” he repeated, with a small quirk of the lips. “Make sure he gets in bed, and _stays_ there.”

Porthos gaze softened and he gave a grateful smile, well aware that Athos wasn’t suggesting this solely for Aramis’ benefit, before rising and going after their friend. 

He gently knocked on the door, opening it carefully when he didn’t receive any answer. At the sight that met him, he couldn’t help but to roll his eyes fondly. Aramis lay on his stomach, sprawled out on the bed and breathing heavily. From the looks of it, he had only managed to change into his night clothes before sleep took him, not even succeeding to get under the covers.

Porthos debated whether he should let him be or try and get him under the covers, and in the end resolved to just drape a blanket over him before dragging the room’s only chair closer to the bed and unceremoniously plopping down in it, eyes fixed on Aramis sleeping form.

That had been hours ago. Aramis had since then shifted so he lay on his back, but other than that he was completely still. Though even the last shreds of unease had vanished, Porthos still found himself unwilling to leave. However, with the adrenaline absent fatigue filled his limbs like lead and he slowly rose to fetch another blanket, deciding that, while he was staying, he might as well make himself comfortable. He barely made it across the room before the low murmurs reached his ears.

He turned, half expecting to meet Aramis’ disapproving scowl, but the other man’s eyes remained closed, though his head moved jerkily from side to side. Porthos returned to his side, his heart clenching in his chest as he realized his friend was suffering from a nightmare. He reached forward, catching one of Aramis’ trembling hands in his own.

“No, no, no…”

“Aramis, calm down,” he said, voice soft and reassuring. "’S just a dream.”

“No… No otra vez… por favor…” Aramis mumbled, his breathing shallow and quick. His eyes moved rapidly under closed eyelids. “No otra vez… Lo siento…”

“Aramis, come on now, you need to wake up”, Porthos cajoled.

“No… por favor no, no de esta manera…” Aramis whimpered, his distress clear in the frown adorning his forehead. His breath hitched and he gave a low, anguished moan. “Sobreviví Savoy… _sobreviví_ …”

“Aramis.” Porthos grabbed his shoulders and shook him firmly, heart in his throat at the familiar place-name. He pushed down his worry and continued, voice steady, “Hey, ’s okay. ’S not Savoy, you’re okay…”

But Aramis remained oblivious to his friend’s reassurances and started thrashing with a ferocity that would have sent a weaker man stumbling back.

“No no, _no_! Escapa… _escapa de mí!_ ”

“Aramis!”

Aramis lunged forward, the only thing preventing him from knocking heads with Porthos the latter’s firm grip on his shoulders.

“Marsac!” he gasped, eyes wide and distant, whole body trembling with adrenaline and panic. Porthos growled low in his throat, cursing both the Cardinal and Marsac for making his friend go through this hell. He waited for Aramis to catch his breath before slowly sitting down at the edge of the bed, making sure he was in his friend's line of sight.

“Aramis?” he tried, squeezing the man’s shoulder gently. “C'mon, come back to me.”

Aramis blinked at him, once, twice, before recognition sparked in his dark eyes and Porthos breathed a sigh of relief.

“Porthos?”

“Yeah, ‘Mis, ’s me.” He withdrew one of his hands but let the other stay on Aramis’ shoulder, knowing he would need it to ground him. “You with me?”

Aramis blinked again, eyes still a bit unfocused, and watched him in open confusion.

“Of course. Where else would I be?”

Porthos gave a slight smirk at the surge of warmth that accompanied his friend’s words, and squeezed his shoulder once again. Aramis let his eyes wander around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings, and Porthos waited patiently for the last pieces of recollection to fall into place. When it did, his friend groaned, dragging a still trembling hand over his face.

“What time is it?” he asked.

Porthos shrugged noncommittally.

“Dunno. Sun went down ‘couple of hours ago.”

Aramis nodded distractedly, fingers unconsciously moving towards the graze on the back of his head. Porthos reached out and tugged it away gently, and Aramis gave him a fleeting smile in thanks before staring down at the covers with a blank expression on his face.

“You alright?” Porthos asked, his eyes taking in the still somewhat haunted look in his friend’s eyes and the slight tension in his shoulders.

Aramis gave a tired laugh.

“I feel as though a horse threw me off head first and then fell on me…” he glanced up with a somewhat weary smile. “I am alright. It is only the past deciding to make a, much unwelcome, appearance.”

Porthos nodded in understanding, “Savoy.”

Aramis started slightly and gave Porthos a curious look.

Porthos shrugged.

“’Bout the only thing I got from your Spanish ramblings.”

“Ah.” A light flush made its way to Aramis’ cheeks and he bowed his head sheepishly. “I’m sorry…”

“ _No_.” Porthos shook his head fiercely, instinctively strengthening his grip on his friend’s shoulder. He was done hearing Aramis blaming himself and apologizing for things he had no control over. Weeks after Savoy that was the only thing that he had done, apologized for surviving, for not saving them, for being weak, for failing in his duty, again and again and again, and Porthos _hated_ it.

He took a deep breath and when he spoke, his voice was a soft murmur, “Just don’t, Aramis.”

Aramis gave a small smile and dipped his head in acquiescence, “As you wish.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, before Porthos couldn’t any longer hold back the question that burned on his tongue.

“So… that hasn’t happened in a while,” he said, carefully watching his friend. “What brought it on?”

Aramis blinked, clearly having been lost in memory, and then that slightly embarrassed look returned. It seemed as though he was about to brush it off, but one look at Porthos’ earnest expression halted him. He sighed, dragging a hand through his dark curls, mindful of the cut on the back of his scalp.

“There was a crow,” he said, voice somehow bitter and soft at the same time, “When I woke on that awning. It was pecking at me.” He huffed dryly. “It must have believed me dead.”

A shiver went up Porthos’ back and he released his hold on Aramis’ shoulder to grab one of his hands instead, the warmth of it reassuring him that his friend was there next to him, breathing, alive and well. Aramis glanced down at their intertwined fingers and smiled softly. He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand before lifting his head and meeting Porthos’ gaze, dark eyes full of gentle understanding.

“I knew it wasn’t Savoy,” he said. “The sun was shining, there was no snow, I didn’t feel cold… but…” He trailed off and gestured vaguely with his hand.

“It still brought you back,” Porthos concluded with a sympathetic half smile.

Aramis nodded thoughtfully. “But only for a moment.”

He smiled.

“Then my temporary respite was over and I had to go save all of your skins yet again.”

Porthos snorted indignantly and Aramis’ smile widened. He soon turned serious again though, having already expected Porthos’ next question.

“There is no need for concern,” he said with that usual, confident gleam back in his eyes. “After all, I have some of the regiment’s finest to watch my back.”

Porthos nodded empathically, “You ain’t gettin’ rid of us anytime soon.”

“Then I believe, my dear Porthos, that I am in good hands.”

Porthos smiled at that, and Aramis returned it with a slight inclination of his head. Then his brow furrowed and he took another look around the room, eyes going from the still burning candle on the table to the position of Porthos’ chair. His head snapped back to Porthos, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Hold on, what are you even doing here? Last I remember, I was alone when I fell asleep.”

Porthos gave a weary shrug in lieu of an answer and Aramis’ eyes narrowed even further.

“Porthos…?”

Porthos rolled his eyes at his friend’s reproaching tone, “Just wanted to check on you, ‘s all.”

Aramis raised an eyebrow skeptically, “In the middle of the night? Surely there are more entertaining endeavors to occupy yourself with than watching me sleep.”

But despite his teasing tone, a small frown wrinkled his forehead.

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked, scanning his friend with the critical eye of a medic. “Is your shoulder bothering you? I told you not to trust Rochefort with resetting it…”

Porthos snorted. “Trust had little to do with it, believe me. And my shoulder’s fine.” Truth be told it throbbed, but he knew as well as Aramis that was to be expected for the next couple of days and nothing unusual.

“You could have asked Athos to do it. Or Treville. Even d’Artagnan. Just about anyone else, actually.”

Porthos rolled his eyes again. “Wasn’t really in a position to be picky, Aramis, and it’s not exactly a complica'ed thing to do. Besides, you’ve already looked at it and said it was fine.”

“Be that as it may, I would most likely have done a better job.”

“Yeah but I thought you were…” Porthos snapped his mouth shut and averted his eyes to stare at the covers. _Dead. I thought you were bloody dead._

He released a heavy breath and wearily ran a hand through his thick curls.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, suddenly annoyed with himself. _He’s sitting right here, you idiot. Alive. He’s fine._

“Porthos…” The gentleness of his friend’s voice almost broke him right there, because of course Aramis knew exactly what he had been thinking.

“It’s fine,” he said gruffly, lifting his head to meet Aramis’ kind, inquiring eyes. Porthos huffed, shaking his head. “Doesn’t even make any sense.”

Aramis gave a humorless chuckle.

“And suffering a bout of hysteria from seeing a crow does?”

Porthos fixed his friend with a pointed look and Aramis lifted his hands in a placating gesture, wisely deciding not to argue.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” he asked instead, when it was obvious Porthos wasn’t about to say anything more.

Porthos shrugged. “Not much to say really”, he admitted. “Just…” He stopped and took a deep breath before locking his gaze with Aramis’, dark eyes revealing all the emotions he could not make himself voice out loud. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

_I can’t lose you too._

It was foolish to demand such a thing, what with their uncanny ability to always end up in trouble and death constantly shadowing them, but Aramis simply smiled and squeezed Porthos’ hand, and Porthos knew that he understood.

“I’m not going anywhere if I can help it,” he promised, and Porthos could feel himself finally being able to relax.

“Good,” he said. He patted Aramis’ arm, smiling, before leaning back into the chair with a content sigh. “Good.”

“Though I must say - and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from punching me,” Aramis said, eyebrow slightly raised although his expression was serious, “That I am sorry to have worried you.”

Porthos shrugged, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“It’s forgotten,” he responded easily. And it was. They had all made it back home relatively unscathed but, most importantly, _alive_ , and that was all that mattered. Now, with the relief coursing through his body, mixing with fatigue, Porthos suddenly remembered how late, or maybe early, it was. He cracked an eye open and gave his friend an incisive look. “You should get back to sleep, you look like hell.”

Aramis laughed, and Porthos couldn’t help the smirk that grazed his lips as he closed his eyes again. He waited to hear the ruffling of Aramis laying down and making himself comfortable, but it never came. As the silence continued to stretch, he couldn’t resist opening his eyes again, revealing Aramis sitting on the bed and watching him with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

Porthos raised a questioning eyebrow. Aramis smiled.

“I think you will find the bed much more comfortable,” he eventually said, and when Porthos opened his mouth to argue he raised a hand to silence him. “I will not have it said that I don't know how to treat a guest, least of all someone I consider family.” He scooted over, wincing slightly in the process, and patted the space next to him. “Come on.”

Porthos eyed him with a mixture of concern and amusement.

“You sure?” he asked, although he had already risen from the chair and carefully lowered himself onto the bed.

Aramis fondly rolled his eyes.

“Yes Porthos, I am sure,” he said. “And I assure you, I will not break, so just lie down already.”

Porthos huffed but complied, and soon they both lay on their backs, side by side, bodies firmly pressed against each other. 

Despite exhaustion pulling at his every limb, Porthos lay awake, listening to Aramis’ breathing gradually becoming steadier and deeper. There would probably be some time before he would find Aramis hanging out of some mistress’ window amusing again, or before he would be able to see a tall building without thinking back to what had transpired earlier that day, but at least tonight he could rest, assured that his brother lay safely beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed my story! Here are the promised translations:
> 
>  _No otra vez... por favor..._ \- Not again... please...  
>  _No otra vez... Lo siento..._ \- Not again... I'm sorry...  
>  _No... por favor no, no de esta manera..._ \- No... please no, not like this...  
>  _Sobreviví Savoy... sobreviví..._ \- I survived Savoy... I survived...  
>  _Escapa... escapa de mí!_ \- Get away... Get away from me!
> 
> Though I am a linguist nerd, I have actually never studied Spanish (except on my own, just for the fun of it) so I hope you will grant me some leniency. And please let me know if there are any inaccuracies - not only with the Spanish but in general. Also, sorry for it being dialogue city there for a while...
> 
> Now I'd love to hear your thoughts and any possible pointers you might have, so don't hesitate to leave a review! :-)
> 
> P.S. I've recently edited this story and removed a few phrases at the end, so if you're re-reading this and just became really confused by that, it's only natural.


End file.
